


i'm sick of sleepwalking into swimming pools.

by porcelainsimplicity



Series: i refuse to admit there was a beach divorce (aka all my charles/erik fics) [52]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Olympics, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 17:23:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16580825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelainsimplicity/pseuds/porcelainsimplicity
Summary: The athletes' village was buzzing as everyone filed back inside after the opening ceremonies.  Originally, Charles wasn't going to go, because swimmers never go to the opening ceremonies, but he'd changed his mind a few days before.  After all, how many chances in his life was he going to get at attending the opening ceremonies of the Olympic Games in his home country?or:  Charles is a swimmer, Erik plays water polo, and Beijing was the site of their first international incident.  Charles remembers too much, Erik shouldn't remember at all, but London changes some things.





	i'm sick of sleepwalking into swimming pools.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really know what this is, to be perfectly honest. it's set around the idea of the 2012 olympics in london. it doesn't really go anywhere and there's absolutely nothing of an ending, but i'm pretty sure there isn't going to be anymore of this so just go with it.

The athletes' village was buzzing as everyone filed back inside after the opening ceremonies. Originally, Charles wasn't going to go, because swimmers never go to the opening ceremonies, but he'd changed his mind a few days before. After all, how many chances in his life was he going to get at attending the opening ceremonies of the Olympic Games in his home country? Just the one, and now that it was over, despite the fact that his feet were killing him from all the standing, he was glad he went. He was more or less by himself, though the diving team seemed to have adopted him for the night. They were all walking well ahead of him now, and he was looking around as they walked past building after building draped in national colors. His eyes danced across the flags and banners and he smiled to himself at the atmosphere. This is what he had dreamed of his entire life, and despite the fact that he'd experienced it four years earlier in Beijing, he still couldn't quite believe he was getting to experience it. 

He was halfway back to the building that housed his room when an arm appeared around his shoulders and pulled him close. “Did you enjoy the festivities?” came a heavily accented voice in his ear, and his body hummed as it realized who was the owner of that voice.

“Of course I did,” Charles said, trying his best to keep his voice level and calm. “Did you?”

One of the veterans on the swim team had sat him down at their training camp before Beijing and let him know about what goes on in the athletes' village. It was before he had made his homosexuality public knowledge, so listening to the descriptions about pretty Swedish beach volleyball players who would do anything he liked didn't necessarily pique his interest. But the rules that had been laid out before him had stuck. _”Not from your same country, not from your same sport, and you're good to go. That way, there's less chance of ever running into that person again. Also, the code words are international incident. Just tell your roommate to get lost because you're going to have an international incident that night and all will be good, alright?”_ So he had paid attention to the rules, found himself someone who was at least fifty thousand leagues above his own, and thought he'd never see him again. 

And with that he turned his head to the left and found the smiling face of Erik Lehnsherr staring back at him. Erik Lehnsherr, the best water polo player in the world. 

Erik Lehnsherr, his international incident from Beijing. 

“I am glad you are here,” Erik said, leaning forward and pressing a sloppy kiss to Charles's lips. “I'll be in touch!”

And with that, Erik blended back in with the crowd around them, and Charles let himself take a deep breath. As he continued to walk towards his room, he silently reminded himself of three things. One, no one was likely to have noticed the kiss, and even if they had, no one would know who he was anyway. Two, he had a relay to swim the following night and he desperately needed sleep. And three, he was most definitely going straight to the internet café when he woke up. Email communication was how he and Erik had first found each other in Beijing, and he knew that it would be how they reconnected now that they were in London.

When he finally made it to his bed and fell asleep, he dreamed of the sun coming up through the window of a tiny Beijing dorm room, lying in the arms of a man who was too good for him. 

 

 

The email was there in his inbox the next morning, a German phone number and a salacious line about what Erik was wanting to do to him as soon as possible. He pulled out his phone and texted back something he hoped was equally as lustful, though he spent the rest of the day thinking that he probably ended up sounding like a total dork. But once he was on the way back to the athletes' village that night, he pulled out his phone to find a response from Erik that sent a shiver down his spine.

It was more than just a response, it was an invitation. And though Charles never, ever, ever interrupted competition with dalliances, he found himself texting back a time and a place in the athletes' village to meet. A few stolen kisses couldn't hurt anything, right?

He made his way to their meeting spot only to find Erik was already there waiting, and then Erik was grabbing his hand and dragging him towards Germany House, pulling him up a stairwell until they were on the roof. 

“I know you had your idea of a meeting spot, but I wanted somewhere more private,” Erik murmured before capturing Charles's lips with his own. “I have to have you again, Charles. I need it.”

Erik's opinion of dalliances during competition was completely the opposite of Charles's. He had told Charles in Beijing that the more sex he had during competition, the more he was able to concentrate during his matches. And since they did not meet until after Charles's competition was over, Charles had been more than willing to warm Erik's bed through the second week of his competition. The German water polo team had walked away with a bronze medal for their efforts, and on their final night together, Erik had fucked Charles while Charles was wearing it. It was one of Charles's favorite lingering memories from Beijing.

Their lips met again in a passionate kiss and Erik backed him up against the door. “You're not saying anything.”

“Competition,” Charles mumbled in the middle of a kiss. “I'm in competition.”

Erik groaned and ran his hands up and down Charles's arms. “Come on, Charles. You have no idea how much sex can make your performance better.”

Charles leaned his head back against the door and took a deep breath. “You know, my coach said the same thing to me once.”

“See?!”

“That doesn't mean I believe it.”

Erik pressed a soft kiss to the edge of Charles's chin. “I read an article in the paper about you the other day. 'Team GB's Gay Swimming Icon' or something like that. But the whole article was about how your presence was groundbreaking but your performance wasn't expected to be. You were unhappy with how you swam in Beijing, you've said London is your last Olympics. So I ask you this. What do you have to lose?”

Charles opened his mouth to list off a number of different things but no words ever left his lips. He lowered his head down and stared Erik in the eyes for a moment, then leaned forward and kissed him hard. “You're right. I've got nothing to lose.”

Erik practically growled with excitement and pulled Charles away from the door and down to the floor where Charles was surprised to find a couple of pillows. 

“Pillows?”

“From my bed.” Erik reached past Charles's head and grabbed something, and then a shower of foil packets stamped with the Olympic rings fell down onto Charles's chest. “I prepared for this.”

Charles plucked one of the packets up off his chest and waved it in Erik's face. “This one first?”

Erik grabbed it out of his grasp and pounced on him. 

 

 

The next day, Charles was sore and uncomfortable, but faster in his prelim swim than he had been expecting to be, and then faster in his semi swim than he had been expecting to be, so he started to think that there might be something to this sex during competition thing. And he texted Erik exactly that, and he almost immediately responded that their roof was open and available, and Charles was texting back with a time to meet up before he could even think about it. 

 

 

Charles could hardly believe what was happening. He was standing on the medal stand, the weight of a ribbon holding a bronze medal comfortable against the back of his neck, trying to hold back the tears as he watched the Union Jack be raised before him. Sure, it wasn't the highest step on the podium and the flag wasn't the highest being raised. But it was a hell of a lot more than he had ever expected, and he had no idea how to even begin to comprehend what he was feeling. 

That night, he pulled himself away from the celebrations at GB House to sneak over to the Germany House roof, where Erik was waiting for him with a smile. 

“I knew you could do it.”

Charles collapsed down onto the floor next to him, accepting a soft kiss. “I don't see how that's possible.”

“I have faith in you,” Erik said softly, fingering the bronze medal hanging around Charles's neck. “You have no idea, do you?”

Charles laid back so his head was resting on one of the pillows. “Apparently not. Are you going to clue me in?”

Erik laid down so his head was resting against Charles's chest, his fingers slipping beneath the Team GB t-shirt and tracing light patterns over the taut skin of Charles's stomach. “I've thought about you so much since Beijing. Followed your career. Prayed you would make it to these Games. Prayed you would remember who I was.”

“How could I forget Erik Lehnsherr, the German Sex God?” Charles asked, threading his fingers through Erik's hair. “I think you and your girlfriend were splashed on the pages of every newspaper or magazine I've picked up recently.”

“So you know about that then.”

“It's kind of hard for me not to. I think the whole world probably does by this point.”

Charles didn't mention that he'd been following Erik's career just as much as Erik had apparently been following his. He didn't mention that when Erik started dating American sprinter Raven Darkholme he felt like something inside of him irreparably broke. He didn't mention that he'd spent hours pouring over what exactly that was supposed to mean, only coming to the conclusion that this was not how his international incident was supposed to have gone.

Erik sighed and clasped his hand around Charles's medal. “Raven and I have an agreement to go our separate ways after the Olympics. We didn't want the firestorm right before the Games.”

“Why?” Charles couldn't stop himself from asking.

“You,” Erik responded simply.

“Me?” To say that Charles was surprised would be saying the very least.

“You.”

Suddenly it was too much for Charles to deal with, because Erik was saying things that he couldn't possibly mean, except that he did seem to mean them quite a lot. “I need to go back. Coach wants a meeting before the next event.”

“Charles...” Erik started, but he sat up, and he let Charles sit up too. 

“I'll be in touch,” Charles whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Erik's lips and then leaving.

 

 

Except three days passed before even the idea of talking to Erik again crossed his mind. He'd spent so much time thinking about what it was Erik had said that night on the rooftop that he'd just been going through the motions with everything else, including his swimming, which meant that he ended up not even making the final in the one event he thought he'd had an actual chance to medal in before the Games had begun. And he was furious with himself for it, because he knew he was overthinking something that really should be very simple.

He wanted Erik. Erik wanted him. Who cared about anything else?

So he sent Erik a text, and he got an almost immediate reply. And they met on the rooftop, and before Erik could say a word, Charles took control. 

When he got back to his room that night, he decided that was most likely how the international incident was supposed to have gone in the first place. Next to no words, a whole lot of fucking, and no remorse. Except there was a lot of remorse.


End file.
